Seven Day Wife: A Fake Marriage Office Romance

by Mia Faye

  There was not going to be a movie moment for me. And I was okay with that, even though it made me all the more certain that I had misread this whole situation with Cam.

  Vicki had been right. They deserved each other. It had taken every ounce of pride I had to brush aside what she had said to me and go looking for Cam. It’s the hope that kills. Somehow, despite all that, I had allowed myself to hope. Maybe she was toying with me. But it was hard to discredit her words when they were that close together in a locked room away from everyone else. I shuddered to think about what else they might have been doing.

  I didn’t think about where I was going until I was out of the building and walking down the long driveway. Only then did I remember I had come with Cam in his car. The very person I was trying to get away from.

  I pulled my phone out, stared at the screen for a long moment while my mind worked. Where was I going? Home? But where exactly was that? Cam’s place? My own apartment? Did I have a third option?

  I thought about just walking around, letting the day come to me. It could be the chance I had been waiting for to explore the city finally. I never really got around to it, what with work and the whole business with Cam. It would give me a chance to think, too. Clear my head.

  Still, it would be impossible to clear my head without creating distance. Once I got back home, it would be impossible to keep Cam away, but it was important that I did. I knew exactly what happened when I let that man within touching distance. It was what had been happening ever since I met him.

  And just like that, I knew what I had to do.

  The wait for my cab took longer than I expected. Wyatt’s estate was apparently quite some distance from the central business district, something I had not noticed on the drive up with Cam. I had been distracted the entire way there. I seemed to have been distracted ever since our first interaction.

  People walked past me, going in and out of the estate, throwing me curious looks as they went by. I was still on edge. I kept looking behind me, expecting the tall figure of Cam to spring up from the direction of the house and run to me. Each time, my heart sank with disappointment, and my self-esteem took another little shot. Every time I heard a voice or footsteps and it wasn’t him, Vicki’s words played in my head, and I got more and more agitated.

  Eventually, though, a car pulled up just outside the gate, and a red-haired woman with glasses popped her head out and smiled at me.

  “Yvette, right?” she asked.

  I nodded, sighing in relief. I walked around and got into the passenger side of the car.

  “Funeral?” she asked me as we got on our way.

  I wondered for a second how she could tell, and then I noticed I was in all black.

  “Oh. Yes. My boss, actually.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  I nodded.

  It wasn’t rude that I had left early, was it? I hoped Meredith wouldn’t be offended that I had. I doubted she would even notice; it seemed like half the city had shown up to pay their respects to Wyatt. In between juggling guests and keeping the function going, she would have her hands full. But I did feel a bit guilty for not saying goodbye to Sheila, Cam’s mom. We had only interacted briefly, but she had been really nice to me.

  “Do you mind…?” I asked, reaching for the radio. The driver shook her head, and long red hair flapped about her face.

  The music swelled in the car, something sad and beautiful. It reminded me of my first night at Cam’s place. My ‘wedding night,’ as it were. It had all seemed so simple back then. Just the two of us, dancing and running around in the living room while classical music played in the background.

  “Sorry,” I said, my hand flashing out and switching the radio off mid-song. “Silence works, too.”

  The driver smiled, glancing at me for a second before turning back to the road. She was actually very pretty; her hair fell around her face in a perfect halo, and she had flawless, glowing skin. I was tempted to ask her how she got her hair to be so lustrous, but she didn’t strike me as the conversational type. So I fell silent, and after a few minutes, I found that I actually preferred it. There was something about being on the road, the wind whipping through the windows and over you, with nothing but the sound of the highway breaking through. It was strangely peaceful.

  I had the rough outline of a plan by the time we got home. There was a lot I would have to do, though, before I could put it into action.

  I thanked my driver, and she beamed at me as she drove away. There I stood, in the middle of the street, still unsure which way to go. Cam’s apartment? Mine?

  I turned, as I seemed to have been doing since I moved to the damn city and walked toward Cam’s apartment building. Like all the times before, my heart was beating fast. Unlike those other times, it wasn’t out of excitement.

  I unlocked the door and was hit right away by that familiar smell, that intangible scent of home. I hadn’t even realized how much I loved that about the apartment; the combined fragrance of our brief life together. Our fake life together that existed only because he wanted to hurt his ex. The very same ex I found him fumbling around with.

  I shook my head and ventured in. There was a lot to do, but I knew I had a little time. Even if Cam were able to get out of the rest of the service, he wouldn’t drive back right away. I had at least an hour before I needed to worry about him.

  I started with the bedroom. I tried to be as clinical as possible, going through the closets without throwing everything to the floor, removing my things without messing with the state of the room. It was almost unbelievable how much stuff I had accumulated over the weeks.

  The bathroom was filled with my products; there was way pinker than there was before I moved in. I was forced to rush to my own house to get some bags because I had vastly underestimated how much I would have to ferry back. The clothes alone accounted for most of the trips. It was almost therapeutic, the feeling that I was finally removing myself from Cam’s house, and, more importantly, his life. It was cowardly, doing it while he wasn’t there, but I wasn’t ready to face him just yet. The anger was bubbling just beneath the surface; beyond that, I didn’t trust myself to be around him. Not yet.

  It took a little over an hour, but I was finally done. I stood outside his door for several minutes, staring at the knocker, thinking back to our very first night together, when I had snuck out of my apartment in a nightgown to be with him. My God, what had happened to me?

  I slipped the key from my keychain and slid it back under the flowerpot. Everything back to normal. As I made my way out of the building, it hit me, the finality of it all. I glanced at the pool, and then at the spot where we met, and it was all bittersweet.

  I started to feel faint when I was walking up the steps to my own building. Dizzy. I grabbed the railing and shook my head to ward off a spell of nausea that came completely out of the blue. For a terrifying moment, the world swam in front of my eyes, and I couldn’t tell up from down or left from right. I held on to the railing as tightly as I could. When the dizziness didn’t pass immediately, I sank slowly to my haunches and, feeling around for something solid, sat down on the closest step.

  I could hear my heartbeat thrumming in my ears. I could taste something salty on my tongue. I tried to think back, wondering if I had eaten something to upset my stomach. But I hadn’t eaten at the wake. Or maybe that was it. I was weak from dehydration and starvation. I hoped that was the case, and that I would feel better as soon as I had something to eat.

  After a while, my head started to clear. The haze lifted, and I was able to get up and make my way up the rest of the stairs, bags in tow. I made my way to the fridge and pulled it open. There wasn’t any fresh food, as I’d been spending practically every night at Cam’s. I briefly debated making another trip; there was leftover lasagna in his freezer. It felt weird, though, considering I had already ‘said my goodbyes.’

  I collapsed onto the couch, defeated. I would have to go to the store and get something t
o cook. Or, better still, order takeout so I wouldn’t have to cook. I groaned as I got up. I knew myself well enough; if I got comfortable, I wouldn’t be able to leave that couch. I went into the bedroom to grab a coat. I paused at the bags strewn around my bed. Then, shrugging, I grabbed one of the bags with my clothes and threw them onto the bed. I stepped out of the lace dress I had donned for the funeral service and stood in my underwear beside the bed.

  I remembered packing my sweatpants at the very bottom of the bag. Rather than go through the clothes one at a time, I simply upended it and let its contents spill onto the bed. I gave it one final shake to dislodge any stragglers, and then I swept through the pile to spread it out.

  Something hard nudged my finger. Hard but soft, and I didn’t immediately realize why my heart suddenly lurched and started to beat. I pulled the clothes aside and reached for the box, my mind already racing to keep up with what my body already knew.

  I held out my hand and tried to do the math. Time had practically flown by while I was at Cam’s. Days had bled into each other, and then into weeks until I was barely aware of how long it had been. I had been reckless, too. Far too reckless. I stared at the box of tampons, and I felt the floor turn into jelly underneath me.

  My body went limp, and I slid slowly to the floor. Or I may have dropped like a rock. All I knew was that the next moment I was curled up naked on the floor, nausea pushing at the backs of my eyes, panic beginning to eat at me.

  It couldn’t be. I didn’t even want to think about it.

  But even while my brain actively rejected the possibility, my body was contradicting it. It made sense if I thought about it. The heightened sense of smell. The wild swings of emotion, from giddy ecstasy to soul-crushing sadness. The tears that wouldn’t let up earlier today at the funeral. And, just now, the sudden loss of balance, nausea, the dizziness. The truth dawned, slowly, like a distant light slowly growing brighter until it was impossible to ignore.

  Chapter 27

  Cameron

  It had been more than 24 hours since I saw Yvette. Even beyond the fact that she was probably mad at me, it was the longest we had gone without speaking in a very long time. Twenty-four hours seemed like such a short time, and I was aware that for normal friendships, that wouldn’t be cause for alarm. People had lives, right? Even if the people in question had been joined at the hip for over two months.

  The service for Wyatt ran long. And even after everyone was gone, Meredith insisted I stay over to help her with the cleanup, and to discuss the company’s next step. It was a credit to her that Penguin was still in excellent shape, and barring any major miracle, we could continue work as we had before. She had done a good enough job behind the scenes that the transition was going to be seamless. But even with that knowledge, she still wanted us to go over everything with a fine-tooth comb. She was giving everyone a few days off, but afterward, she wanted work to resume as usual.

  All through that meeting, I thought of nothing else. Yvette’s horrified expression kept springing into my mind and mortifying me all over again. She must have been furious. Worse, she was disappointed. I needed to find her. I needed…

  “Cam? Are you paying attention?”

  “Of course, Meredith.”

  Only barely, though. And it stayed on my mind for most of the night, carrying over into the next morning when I finally left Wyatt’s estate. I had to make a quick stop by the office to collect some documents, and I half-hoped I would find Yvette there. But it was a faint hope at best. Indeed, when I got to the office, I knew she wasn’t there. There was only a handful of staff present, those too getting a final batch of work done before taking a break, and those who preferred to work to keep their minds away from events.

  I was in the latter group. From the moment Meredith had told me about Wyatt’s death, I had thrown myself into work, planning, and fixing, and running things. It was the only thing I knew how to do, really. It helped, gave me a sense of purpose, and that was much better than sitting around moping, which Meredith admitted having been doing.

  I asked around, just to be sure, but no one had seen Yvette since the service. Resigned, I grabbed the documents and left.

  It was well past midday when I finally got home. I rushed upstairs, fumbling with the keys as I opened the door, and shouting her name as I entered the house. My voice echoed back to me, strangely loud and hollow.

  She definitely wasn’t in; there was none of the lived-in quality she imbued the place with. I was used to the smell of something cooking when she was around, coupled with slightly feminine energy I couldn’t quite describe. Her scent was in the air, but it was faint.

  I threw my coat down and reached for my phone. I had been sorely tempted to call her, but I had been putting off. Not least because I was scared of her reaction. I didn’t think I could deal with her being angry at me; I had been convincing myself that the more I waited before speaking with her, the calmer she would be.

  Now, though, I threw all caution to the wind.

  But even as I felt my breathing come faster and my heart starts to patter, Yvette’s voice thrilled that I had reached her voicemail. I hung up right before the beep. Whatever it was I would say to her it wasn’t going to be via voicemail.

  Something hit the corner of my eye as I walked to the couch. Something small and shiny. I stopped, crouched, and picked it up; a single glass earring. I recognized it right away; Yvette had worn it to the funeral. I knew because I had spent an unhealthy amount of time staring at her as she got dressed, then all through the drive, and for the most part of the initial ceremony.

  Her earring on the living room floor could only mean one thing; she had been here.

  I rushed into the bedroom in a mounting state of panic. At first glance, everything was where it was supposed to be. But when I walked to the closet, I noticed it was emptier than it had been before. All her clothes were gone. Her shoes, too, and the entirety of her make-up kits. There was further evidence in the bathroom; it had gone right back to looking like a bachelor’s bathroom. The female touch was gone.

  She had left me.

  I walked back out and grabbed my coat, my brain churning. I doubted she would be in her place, but it was the first place to go.

  I should have called her immediately she left. I should have shrugged Meredith off and chased after her. Who knows what she was thinking, and where that thought process would lead her?

  I ran across the street and bounded up the stairs. I knocked on her door a few times, growing increasingly sure that she wasn’t in. I tried to listen through the door, but it was eerily quiet inside. No sound of movement, or anything that would suggest there was someone in the house. I waited for almost ten minutes before giving up.

  This couldn’t be it, surely? She couldn’t have just left like that. Granted, she was angry, and rightly so. But would she leave me completely in the dark?

  I got to the foot of the stairs, and then, on a whim, I turned and went up instead of down. I don’t know why, but I wanted to see the rooftop again. Nostalgia, perhaps. I wanted to see that old couch on which we made love. I wanted to feel the wind slapping against me, as it did while I stood on that ledge with her.

  It was less windy today than it had been when Yvette and I went up there. Sunnier, too. The sun struck me right in the eyes as I emerged, blinding me for a moment. This was it, then, where it all began. Our marriage. The third act in our story. Up to that point, we had been dancing around each other, always at arm’s length; it was here that we crashed into each other with finality.

  The couch was still intact. Still old and battered. I approached it from behind, shaking my head at the memory of Yvette sitting on it, her eyes filling with lust, my own arousal sudden and urgent. I grinned. Our attraction had always been so raw and passionate.

  Just as I got close enough, I heard for the first time a low murmur, and, a few seconds later, the unmistakable sound of a woman giggling.

  I stopped, the realization dawning on me that there
was someone else there. I froze, perking my ears up. Seconds later, I heard the murmuring again, but this time it was from a deeper, gruffer voice. As I watched, a dark elbow poked out from behind the couch, and then a flash of dark hair.

  I started to back away. Hopefully, I could do it without making a sound. The giggling continued, and the hushed yet excited voices. Then, without warning, the woman squealed in apparent delight. I saw a torso straighten up from behind the couch, and my plan to leave without alerting them went up in smoke.

  She came up slowly, fluidly, like a dancer. Her hair was instantly striking; it was like a large halo of dark curls, an afro that bobbed and swayed slightly in the wind. She had fine ebony skin, and a beautiful oval face that transformed completely when she saw me standing a few feet away, foot raised in the air as I tried to leave.

  Her hands immediately shot up to her chest. I hadn’t even noticed, but she was topless.

  The man’s head popped up next; he was young, handsome, with straw-colored hair and a strong jaw. His thick eyebrows knitted together as he turned to see what had spooked his partner, and the frown only got deeper when he saw me.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, deciding to get ahead of the situation. It wouldn’t do to have them think I was spying on them. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I had no idea there was someone up here.”

  The man looked at his partner, his expression softening.“I thought you locked it?” he asked in a low, deep voice.

  The woman shrugged, her hands still plastered to her chest as she tried to cover up her breasts.“I thought I did,” she said to him.

  “Please,” I said. “Don’t mind me; I was just leaving.”

  I raised my hands in apology, then turned and started to walk away. I was at the door when the thought popped into my head. I swiveled back around to face the couple. The woman had located her top, a bright yellow tank top, and she was now standing next to her partner. They were whispering urgently to each other in hushed voices.